


something so flawed and free

by LeanMeanSaltineMachine



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Light Angst, Pre-Canon, Pre-Stream (Critical Role), Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 03:56:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18984769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeanMeanSaltineMachine/pseuds/LeanMeanSaltineMachine
Summary: There were tempting patches of sky above her head, above the leaf canopy that breaks the blue into patchwork, and she longed to reach for it, to run her fingers through the clouds and see Exandria from a bird’s eye view. To stop being herself for a while.--Two times Keyleth reminisces over her first lesson in Wild Shape.





	something so flawed and free

It’s lonely, out in the woods. She wasn’t used to the silence, the lack of people, the sounds of civilization that become muffled after a certain distance into the brush. Instead, there were the chirps of birds and the buzzing of insects. The sun and wind trickled over the back of her neck and down her arms to the grass below her feet. It was peaceful, yet the reclusiveness bothered her.

She had been sent out on her journey to discover what it means to lead. To find herself. To meet the expectations that have been placed on her so she could receive new ones. There were tempting patches of sky above her head, above the leaf canopy that breaks the blue into patchwork, and she longed to reach for it, to run her fingers through the clouds and see Exandria from a bird’s eye view. To stop being herself for a while.

But she had places to travel to, and people to meet. Perhaps one day she would be as sturdy as the trunks that surround her, with roots that dig deep and deeper still, with branches that reach the sky, or at least dare to try. She placed a palm against a tree and drew strength from it. She carried on.

\----

Learning  _ how _  to wild shape was an extraordinary occasion. Not because it was rare in Zephrah - or in the other druidic communities, for that matter - but instead because it had become a rite of passage. There was an air of legacy to learning how to shift, and Keyleth rejoiced in a ritual that did not stifle her in the heavy role of a future leader but instead placed her as one of the many druids in her home. This thought kept her buoyant as she followed her instructor.

She had been young then, even younger than when she had met the stragglers who would one day form Vox Machina. Not that she could have been any older - every moment she was alive left a younger self behind - but that wasn’t her point. Her point was: she had been young, and it left her more than slightly naive. Her mind raced with forms to choose and become. She thought of the courageous claws of a bear turned gentle for berry picking. Birds swooped by and she dreamed of joining them in their dawn song. Butterflies flitted and she wondered if she, too, could become beautiful.

“Keep up, Keyleth!” Faer sighed, and she scrambled to their side. They shook their head and thankfully said nothing more.

The two of them entered a small home with comfortable furniture and room for two more people if no one minded personal space. (Keyleth tended to require a lot of it, though, even if she didn’t want to.) Faer began the process of making tea while Keyleth stood awkwardly in the doorway of the house. Should she stand with her hands behind her back? No, too formal. At her sides? No, she had to do something with her hands, not just let them hang there! Should she fold them in front of her? That was the best choice yet, but now she had to figure out what to do with her weight. On one foot? Both feet? She had hair in her eyes - 

“When you’re done imitating a scared rabbit, get the honey, would you?”

Faer’s voice startled her into stillness, then Keyleth nodded rapidly and sprinted past her instructor. She grabbed the honey and placed it on the table, then awkwardly sat herself on a chair. Faer cast a baleful glance at the casualties of the task but again, they said nothing about the banged cupboards and nearly spilled tea leaves. (It wasn’t her fault! She just... grew too fast to know where all her limbs were at any one time.)

Then the two of them were seated across from each other with steaming tea in their cups. Faer spooned a small teaspoon of honey into their cup, stirred, and sipped. It was quiet, and Keyleth clutched her cup like it was all that stopped her from drowning. A hesitant sip reminded her that she did enjoy tea, especially made as well as Faer made theirs, but honey wouldn’t hurt. She added some as well.

Well. That took up a nice 30-60 seconds. Now what?

Faer gave no hints as to what Keyleth should be doing. The two just sat there, drinking their tea in what Keyleth saw as a terrible silence.

“What are we - “

“Sh.”

Right then.

Keyleth drank her tea and stared at her pants, picking at them idly. Now that she knew she was supposed to be quiet, the silence wasn’t so bad. It was almost peaceful. Her cup was almost empty when Faer spoke again.

“What do you know of beast shaping?”

She hesitated. She wanted the best answer - the perfect answer if possible. But nothing profound came to mind, so Keyleth was forced to answer honestly. “Not much, really,” she admitted. “All druids are taught to be able to turn into any creature they wish, but the creature and power depend on the druid. Some can perform better than others.” She stared anxiously at her instructor, who nodded slowly.

“Well, you have some of that correct.” Faer placed their cup on the table and leaned back with a sigh as their body was forced to move and rearrange. It was nice to hear a sigh that wasn’t directed at her. “It is true that the creature and its power depends on the druid. The frequency of the change is also dependent on the person, however. What should be common knowledge, but isn’t, is that not all creatures can be - or  _ should _ be - shaped.” That final sentence was paired with a sharp, keen look that had Keyleth gulping.

“Why not?” she blurted.

“Someday, when you are the leader of your people, you will have seen many terrible beasts. Terrible things, terrible people, terrible places….” Faer trailed off and stared at some picture Keyleth couldn’t see. It was barely a moment’s pause when Faer shook their head and began speaking again, leaving Keyleth feeling unmoored and uncertain.

“By that time, you will be ready,” they reassured her. She wasn’t sure she believed them. “When you reach the end of your journey, you will have the ability to shape into any creature you see. It is best to keep in mind the situation at hand when you shift - a dragon, even a young one, will not fit in a common room.”

The attempt at humor and the ghost of a smile on Faer’s face was enough to lighten the mood of the conversation. Keyleth responded with a small smile of her own before asking, “So since that’s for later… what can I do now?”

Faer stretched, sighed again, and got up to bring a book back to the two of them. They handled it gently, and Keyleth could see the pages were old, old and yellow and crackling. It made Keyleth feel young like how her father was still young, young like the annual leaves on a millenia old tree. Keyleth liked it already.

“You can already cast some magic about twice a day, correct?” Faer asked, bringing her mind back to the task at hand.

Keyleth nodded. “And I can druidcraft at-will.”

Faer nodded. “With learning beast shape, you will be able to cast magic three times a day. I know that doesn’t feel like much of a change, but you must start small.”

Keyleth didn’t feel disappointed - okay, well, that was a lie. She did. But she also saw the truth in it, and there was some relief in the absence of some rush of power.

Faer studied her for a minute, conducting some sort of silent assessment, before they nodded. “Ready to begin?” they asked.

She felt her nerves, lulled by the tea and conversation, kick back in. Still, Keyleth nodded and stood with her instructor. “Ready,” she said firmly, surprised at the certainty and truth in her voice.

Faer motioned with their head to join them outside, and once Keyleth did the two faced each other as if to fight. Keyleth fidgeted until Faer’s voice broke through.

“Take a deep breath,” they instructed. “Feel the life of the grass. Feel the openness of the sky around you, the fierceness of the wind. Remember the first time you saw a caterpillar and the last time you saw an eagle. What do we have in common?”

“Life,” Keyleth answered immediately. She felt it already, thrumming through her and under her fingertips, inviting her to join the melody of the sun and breeze.

“What separates us?”

Keyleth’s answer took longer this time, in that it wasn’t immediate. “What we eat,” she answered slowly. “What we look like. How we live. Our dreams.”

“Think about those differences. If you were to become a cat, a pony, or an eagle - what about you would change?” Keyleth opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted. “Don’t tell me. Just think about it. I want you to think about  _ becoming _ those changes.  _ How would you change _ ?”

She thought about it. She thought about hair and fur and claws, the sharp ears of a predator and the keen senses of its prey. Four legs and wings traveled so much faster than she could ever hope for. She would eat only meat or only grass. She would swim the depths of a river, legs churning, head held high. She would strike from tops of trees to snatch a mouse from the banks.

“I want you to think about becoming those changes,” Faer repeated from far away. When had her eyes closed? “Are your limbs lengthening or shrinking? Do you feel shorter, or as tall? How do you stand?”

Something clicked, something  _ shifted _ inside her, and suddenly she was different. Her eyes flew open and she stared at her instructor in awe and a small bit of fear. Surely nothing could feel this  _ right _ , like she was meant to do it? Were things not supposed to come with struggle and tears? Could she, the village leader only ever expected to fail, be born to change and become something new, always? Was she created to shift?

“Hello, Keyleth.” Faer’s eyes were soft and shined with pride. “How do you feel?”

Keyleth made to reply but only heard a whiny, and then a snort of surprise. She felt four legs solid on the ground and the urge to run. Still, she stayed in place, only shifting her weight and tossing her mane.

Faer laughed, and their smile colored their words. “What about a cat, Keyleth? Like the one in town, that ginger one you feed when you think no one is looking?”

Keyleth was suddenly thankful horses couldn’t blush, but she still gave herself away with a bashful ear flick. She closed her eyes, centering herself and once more thinking on the differences between creatures. Another shift, another jolt like the world was adjusting to her rather than her to it, and she was small. There were scents and vibrations on the ground, and she itched to chase what she could.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Faer warned, but the amusement still present kept Keyleth from any worry. “Can you shift back?”

Keyleth closed her eyes and did so. She already missed the feeling of being something other than herself, with her too-long limbs and leadership expectations and clumsy speech. Longed for her fidgeting hands to be replaced with paws, for her half-elven ears to become even sharper, for her hair to grow coarser as a mane or shorter as soft fur.  _ I can do this again, _ she reminded herself as she opened her eyes.  _ I am not myself forever. _

The memory blurs after that. She remembers learning how to change safely, how to shift faster, what creatures she could shape into and others she could not. There were reminders to come back, and she left Faer’s home with notes and a spinning mind. She was tired as she returned home, exhilarated and breathtakingly aware she had stepped into something she did not yet fully understand. Something as old as the gods, something as overwhelming as devotion, something  _ beautiful _ .

And it was the first time she did not fear if she was capable.

\--

There is no neat cap to the memory, no definitive point where her hope fades to wistfulness. Instead there is only the slow decline into competence and risk assessment, sinking into the role of leader reluctantly. She wanders through the woods and gains a family, and all of them gain a fondness for her tiger form. She does indeed learn that dragons, even young ones, do not fit in common rooms.

They don’t fit on the roof of Grayskull Keep either, but that’s another story.

Faer’s words haunt her sometimes. The simple prophecy of  _ “terrible things, terrible people, terrible beasts,” _ on that first day, and the shadows in their eyes during later lessons. Keyleth thinks maybe they had been training her for war after all. She thinks maybe the hitch in Faer’s voice could have been guilt.

She stands at the base of the tree where she earned her mantle. She gains strength from it just as she did that first day on her own, still adjusting to the now familiar lonesomeness. Her own roots now run deep and intertwine with the tree next to her, both of them bolstered by history and legacy. The stars are out, and her raven perches on a branch above her head. The land is peaceful, and it is lonesome.

This time, she doesn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
> Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments ((such as "I loved this!" or a string of emojis)
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions (asking about headcanons, why I chose those particular shapes for Keyleth, anything else!)
>   * Constructive criticism (I haven't written in this style for quite some time, so if you see something you think could use a bit of polish I would really love to hear it!!)
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author sees and appreciates all comments, but may not reply due to anxiety and energy levels. If you would like me to not reply to your comment for any reason, please add "whisper" to the end of your comment! :)


End file.
